“I do,” said a sweet-faced “Seventher,” who had been quietly studying during all this noise. “Poor Gwendolyn is sorry but isn’t one bit humble. She’s absolutely just and has done what she believed right. But it hasn’t helped her much. She’s fully as proud as she ever was, and the only way we can help her is by loving her. We’ve
got
to love her or she’ll grow harder than ever.”
“You can’t make love as you’d make a – a pin-cushion!” returned Florita Sheraton, holding up, to illustrate, a Christmas gift she was embroidering.
Dorothy listened to this talk, her own heart upbraiding her for her failure to “love” Gwen. She liked her greatly and admired her courage more.
“Win, let’s you and me try and see if that is true, what Florita says. Maybe love can be ‘made’ after all;” she whispered to her friend.
“Huh! That’ll be a harder job than algebra! I shall fail in both.”
“I reckon I shall, too, but we can try – all the same. That won’t hurt either one of us and I’m awfully sorry for her, she must be so lonesome.”
“‘Pity is akin to love!’ You’ve taken the first step in your climb toward Gwen’s top-lofty heart!” quoted Winifred. “Climb away and I’ll boost you as well as I can. I – ”
“Miss Dorothy Calvert, the Lady Principal would like to see you in her own parlor;” said a maid, appearing at the door.
“What now? You seem to be greatly in demand, to-day, by the powers that be, I hope it isn’t a lecture the Bishop passed on to her to deliver,” said Florita as Dorothy rose to obey.
But whatever fear Dolly felt of any such matter was banished by her first glance into her teacher’s face. Miss Muriel had never looked kinder nor better pleased than then, as, holding up a pair of beautiful white blankets she said:
“How will these do for the toboggan suit the Bishop wished me to get for you?”
“Oh! Miss Muriel! Are those for me and so soon? Why, it’s only an hour ago, or not much more, since he spoke of it, and how could anybody go to town and back in that little while, in such a storm?”
“That wasn’t necessary. These were in the house. Do you like them?”
“Like them! They’re the softest, thickest, prettiest things! I never saw any so fine, even at Aunt Betty’s Bellevieu. Do you think I ought to have them? Wouldn’t cheaper ones answer for messing around in the snow?”
“The question of expense is all right, dear, and we’re fortunate to have the material on hand. Mrs. Archibald will be here, directly, to take your measurements. Ah! here she is now.”
This was something delightfully different from any “lecture,” and even Miss Muriel talked more and in higher spirits than usual; till Dorothy asked:
“Do you love tobogganing, too, Miss Tross-Kingdon?”
“No, my dear, I’m afraid of it. My heart is rather weak and the swift motion is bad for it. But I love to see others happy and some things have happened, to-day, which have greatly pleased me. But you must talk sliding with Mrs. Archibald. Dignified as she is, she’ll show you what a true Canadian can do, give her a bit of ice and a hill.”
The matron laughed and nodded.
“May the day be long before I tire of my nation’s sport! I’m even worse than Michael, who’s almost daft on the subject.”
Then she grew busy with her measurings and clippings, declaring: “It just makes me feel bad to put scissors into such splendid blankets as these. You’ll be as proud as Punch, when I dress you out in the handsomest costume ever shot down Oak Knowe slide!”
“Oh! I wish Aunt Betty could see it, too. She does so love nice things!”
When Mrs. Archibald and her willing helpers had completed her task and Dolly was arrayed in her snow-suit she made, indeed, “the picture” which Dawkins called her.
For the weather proved what the Bishop had foretold. The snow fell deep and heavy, “just right for packing,” Michael said, on the great wooden slide whose further end rose to a dizzy height and from whose lower one a second timbered “hill” rose and descended.
If the toboggan was in good working order, the momentum gained in the descent of the first would carry the toboggans up and over the second; and nothing could have been in finer condition than these on that next Saturday morning when the sport was to begin. The depression between the two slides was over a small lake, or pond, now solidly frozen and covered with snow; except in spots where the ice had been cut for filling the Oak Knowe ice-houses. Into one of these holes Michael and his force had plunged a long hose pipe, and a pump had been contrived to throw water upward over the slide.
On the night before men had been stationed on the slide, at intervals, to distribute this water over the whole incline, the intense cold causing it to freeze the instant it fell; and so well they understood their business they had soon rendered it a perfectly smooth slide of ice from top to bottom. A little hand-railed stairway, for the ascent of the tobogganers, was built into the timbers of the toboggan, or incline, itself; and it was by this that they climbed back to the top after each descent, dragging their toboggans behind them. At the further side of the lake, close to its bank, great blazing fires were built, where the merry makers could warm themselves, or rest on the benches placed around.
Large as some of the toboggans were they were also light and easily carried, some capable of holding a half-dozen girls – “packed close.” Yet some sleds could seat but two, and these were the handsomest of all. They belonged to the girls who had grown proficient in the sport and able to take care of themselves; while some man of the household always acted as guide on the larger sleds and for the younger pupils.
When Dorothy came out of the great building, that Saturday holiday, she thought the whole scene was truly fairyland. The evergreens were loaded to the ground with their burden of snow, the wide lawns were dazzlingly bright, and the sun shone brilliantly.
“Who’re you going to slide with, Dolly? On Michael’s sled? I guess the Lady Principal will say so, because you’re so new to it. Will you be afraid?”
“Why should I be afraid? I used to slide down the mountain side when I lived at Skyrie. What makes you laugh, Winifred? This won’t be very different, will it?”
“Wait till you try it! It’s perfectly glorious but it isn’t just the same as sliding down a hill, where a body can stop and step off any time. You can’t step off a toboggan, unless you want to get killed.”
Dorothy was frightened and surprised, and quickly asked:
“How can anybody call that ‘sport’ which is as dangerous as that? What do you mean? I reckon I won’t go. I’ll just watch you.”
It was Winifred’s turn to stare, but she was also disappointed.
“Oh! you little ‘Fraid-Cat,’ I thought you were never afraid of anything. That’s why I liked you. One why – and there are other whys – but don’t you back out in this. Don’t you dare. When you’ve got that be-a-u-tiful rig and a be-a-u-tiful toboggan to match. I’d hate to blush for you, Queen Baltimore!”
“I have no toboggan, Winnie, dear. You know that. I was wondering who’d take me on theirs – if – if I try it at all.”
Winifred rushed to the other side of the porch and came flying back, carrying over her head a toboggan, so light and finely polished that it shone; also a lovely cushion of pink and white dragged from one hand. This fitted the flat bottom of the sled and was held in place, when used, by silver catches. The whole toboggan was of this one polished board, curving upward in front according to the most approved form, pink tassels floating from its corners that pink silk cords held in their place. Across this curving front was stenciled in pink: “Dorothy Calvert.”
“There, girlie, what do you say to that? Isn’t it marked plainly enough? Didn’t you know about it before? Why all we girls have been just wild with envy of you, ever since we saw it among the others.”
Dorothy almost caught her breath. It certainly was a beauty, that toboggan! But how came she to have it?
“What do you mean, Winifred Christie? Do you suppose the Bishop has had it made, or bought it, for me? Looks as if it had cost a lot. And Aunt Betty has lost so much money she can’t afford to pay for extra things – not very high ones – ”
“Quit borrowing trouble, Queenie! Who cares where it came from or how much it cost? Here it is with your own name on it and if you’re too big a goose to use it, I shall just borrow it myself. So there you are. There isn’t a girl here but wouldn’t be glad to have first ride on it. Am I invited?” and Winifred poked a saucy face under her friend’s hood.
“Am I?” asked Florita Sheraton, coaxingly throwing her arms around Dolly.
“Oh! get away, Flo! You’re too big! You’d split the thing in two!” said Ernesta, pulling away her chum’s arms. “Just look at me, Dolly Doodles! Just see how nice and thin I am! Why I’m a feather’s weight to Flo, and I’m one of the best tobogganers at Oak Knowe. Sure. Ask Mrs. Archibald herself, for here she comes all ready for her share of the fun!”
“Yes, yes, lassie, you’re a fair one at the sport now and give some promise o’ winning the cup yet!” answered the matron, joining the girls and looking as fit and full of life as any of them.
“Hear! Hear! Hurrah for ’Nesta! Three cheers for the champion cup winner!”
“And three times three for the girl Dolly chooses to share her first slide on the new toboggan!” cried somebody, while a dozen laughing faces were thrust forward and as many hands tapped on the breasts of the pleaders, signifying: “Choose me!”
The Bishop was already on hand, looking almost a giant in his mufflers, and as full of glee as the youngest there. The lady Principal, in her furs, had also joined the group, for though she did not try the slides, she loved to watch the enjoyment of the others, from a warm seat beside the bonfire.
While Dorothy hesitated in her choice, looking from one to another of the merry, pleading faces about her, Gwendolyn Borst-Kennard stood a little apart, watching with keen interest the little scene before her, while the elder members of the group also exchanged some interested glances.
“Count us! Count us! That’s fair! Begin: ‘Intry, mintry, outry, corn; wire, brier, apple, thorn. Roly, poly, dimble-dee; – O – U – T spells Out goes SHE!’”
Over and over, they laughingly repeated the nonsense-jingle, each girl whom the final “she” designated stepping meekly back with pretended chagrin, while the “counting out” went on without her. The game promised to be so long that the matron begged:
“Do settle it soon, young ladies! We’re wasting precious time.”
Dorothy laughed and still undecided, happened to glance toward Gwendolyn, who had made no appeal for preference, and called out:
“Gwen, dear, will you give me my first lesson? I choose Gwendolyn!”
It was good to see the flush of happiness steal into Gwen’s face and to see the smile she flashed toward Dorothy. Stepping forward she said:
“Thank you, dear. I do appreciate this in you, and you needn’t be afraid. The Lady Principal knows I can manage a toboggan fairly well, and this of yours seems to be an exact copy of my own that I’ve used so long.”
Other cheers followed this and in a moment the whole party had spread over the white grounds leading to the great slide, the good Bishop following more slowly with the other “grown-ups,” and softly clapping his mittened hands.
“Good! Fine! I like that. Dorothy has ignorantly done the one right thing. If she could only guess the secret which lies under all how thankful she would be that she made this choice and no other.”
CHAPTER XII
JOHN GILPIN JOINS THE SPORT
Old Michael stood on the wide platform at the top of the slide, his face aglow with eagerness, and his whole manner altered to boyish gayety. His great toboggan was perched on the angle of the incline, like a bird poised for flight, while he was bidding his company to: “Get on, ladies! Get on and let’s be off!”
Behind and around him were the other men employees of Oak Knowe, and every one of them, except the
chef
, enthusiastic over the coming sport. But he, unhappy mortal, preferred the warmth of his kitchen fire to this shivery pastime and had only entered into it to escape the gibing tongues of the other servants. Yet in point of costume he could “hold his head up with the best”; and the fact that he could, in this respect even outshine his comrades was some compensation for his cold-pinched toes.
The platform was crowded with toboggans and girls; the air rang with jest and laughter; with girlish squeals of pretended fear; and cries of: “Don’t crowd!” or: “Sit close, sit close!”
“Sit close” they did; the blanketed legs of each tobogganer pressed forward on either side of the girl in front, and all hands clasping the small rod that ran along the sides of the toboggan.
The slide had been built wide enough for two of the sleds abreast, and one side was usually left to the smaller ones of the experienced girls, who could be trusted to safely manage their own light craft.
To Michael and the matron was always accorded the honor of first slide on the right while the “best singles” coasted alongside on the left. That morning, by tacit consent, the new “Dorothy Calvert” was poised beside the big “Oak Knowe” and the Honorable Gwendolyn Borst-Kennard was a proud and happy girl, indeed, as she took her place upon it as guide and protector of ignorant Dorothy.
“She chose me of her own accord! I do believe she begins to really love me. Oh! it’s so nice to be just free and happy with her as the others are!” thought Gwen, as she took her own place and directed her mate just how to sit and act. Adding a final:
“Don’t you be one bit afraid. I never had an accident sliding and I’ve always done it every winter since I can remember. We’re off! Bow your head a little and – keep – your – mouth – shut!”
There wasn’t time! Dorothy felt a little quiver run through the thing on which she sat and a wild rush through icy air! That was all! They had reached the bottom of the first slide and began to fly upward over the other before she realized a thing. Gwen hadn’t even finished her directions before they had “arrived!”
The Southerner was too amazed, for a second, to even step off the toboggan, but Gwendolyn caught her up, gave her a hearty kiss and hug, and demanded:
“Well! Here we are! How do you like it! We’ve beat! We’ve beat!”
Dorothy rubbed her eyes. So they had, for at that instant the big Oak Knowe fetched up beside them, and its occupants stepped or tumbled off, throwing up their hands and cheering:
“Three cheers for the Dorothy Calvert! Queen of the Slide for all This Year!”
And liveliest among the cheerers was the once so dignified young “Peer,” the Honorable Gwen. Dorothy looking into her beaming face and hearing her happy voice could scarce believe this to be the same girl she had hitherto known. But she had scant time to think for here they came, thick and fast, toboggan after toboggan, Seventh Form girls and Minims, teachers and pupils, the Bishop and the
chef
, maids and men-servants, the matron and old Michael – all in high spirits, all apparently talking at once and so many demanding of “Miss Dixie” how she liked it, that she could answer nobody.
Then the Bishop pushed back her tasseled hood and smiled into her shining eyes:
“Well little ‘Betty the Second,’ can you beat that down at old Baltimore? What do you think now? Isn’t it fine – fine? Doesn’t it make you feel you’re a bird of the air? Ah! it’s grand – grand. Just tell me you like it and I’ll let you go.”
“I – Yes – I reckon I do! I hadn’t time to think. We hadn’t started, and we were here.”
“Up we go. Try her again!” cried one, and the climb back to the top promptly began, the men carrying the heavier sleds, the girls their lighter ones, Gwendolyn and Dorothy their own between them. Then the fun all over again; the jests at awkward starts, the cheers at skillful ones, the laughter and good will, till all felt the exhilaration of the moment and every care was forgotten.
Many a slide was taken and now Dorothy could answer when asked did she like it:
“It’s just grand, as the Bishop said. At first I could hardly breathe and I was dizzy. Now I do as Gwen tells me and I love it! I should like to stay out here all day!”
“Wait till dinner-time! Then you’ll be ready enough to go in. Tobogganing is the hungriest work – or play – there can possibly be!” said Gwendolyn, pirouetting about on the ice as gracefully as on a waxed floor, the merriest, happiest girl in all that throng. Not only Dorothy but many another observed her with surprise. This was a new Gwen, not the stand-offish sort of creature who had once so haughtily scorned all their fun. She had always tobogganed, every year that she had been in that school, but she had never enjoyed it like this; and again as the Bishop regarded her, he nodded his head in satisfaction and said to the matron:
“I told you so. I knew it. Do a kindness to somebody and it will return to yourself in happiness a thousand fold.”
“Thanks, dear Bishop! I’ll try to remember,” merrily answered she; noticing that Gwendolyn had drawn near enough to hear, and taking this little preachment to herself to prevent Gwendolyn’s doing so. She was so pleased by sight of the girl’s present happiness that she wished nothing to cloud it, and believing herself discussed would certainly offend proud, sensitive Gwen.
Almost two hours had passed, and a few were beginning to tire of the really arduous sport, with its upward climb, so out of proportion to the swift descent; when suddenly fresh shouts of laughter rang out from the high platform and those ascending made haste to join the others at the top.
There stood old John Gilpin and Robin, the latter’s young bones now sound and strong again, and himself much the better for his sojourn at the cottage with his enforced rest and abundance of good food.
“Well, well! How be ye all? Hearty, you look, and reg’lar circus pictures in them warm duds! Good day to your Reverence, Bishop, and I hope I see you in good health. My humble respects, your Reverence, and I thought as how I’d just step up and ask your Reverence might my lad here and me have a try on your slide. I thought – why, sir, the talk on’t has spread way into town a’ready, sir, and there’ll be more beggars nor me seekin’ use on’t, your Reverence – ”
The prelate’s hearty laughter rang out on the frosty air, a sound delightful to hear, so full it was of genial humanity, and he grasped the hand of the old teamster as warmly as he would that of a far wealthier man.
“Man to man, John, we’re all in the same boat to-day. Drop the formality and welcome to the sport. But what sort of sled is this, man? Looks rather rough, doesn’t it? Sure you could manage it on this steep incline?”
John bridled and Robin looked disappointed. Expectations of the toboggan-slide’s being made ready had filled his head, and he and the old man had toiled for hours to make the sled at which the Bishop looked so doubtfully.
“Well, your Reverence – I mean – you without the Reverence – ” here the Bishop smiled and Robin giggled, thereby causing his host to turn about with a frown. “You see, sir, Robin’s always been hearin’ about your toboggan up here to Oak Knowe and’s been just plumb crazy – ”
At this point the shy lad pulled John’s coat, silently begging him to leave him out of the talk; but the farmer had been annoyed by Robin’s ill-timed giggle, and testily inquired:
“Well, sir, ain’t that so? Didn’t you pester the life clean out o’ me till I said I’d try? Hey?”
“Y-yes,” meekly assented the boy; then catching a glimpse of Dorothy and Winifred and their beckoning nods he slipped away to them. To him Dorothy proudly exhibited her beautiful toboggan, explaining its fine construction with a glibness that fitted an “old tobogganer” better than this beginner at the sport. Gwen’s face beamed again, listening to her, as if she felt a more personal pride in the sled than even Dorothy herself. She even unbent so far from her pride of rank as to suggest:
“If you’ll let me borrow it and he’d like to go, I’ll take Robin down once, to show him how smoothly it runs.”
Robin’s eyes sparkled. He wasn’t shy with girls, but only when he felt himself made too conspicuous by his host’s talk.
“Would you? Could she? May she?” he cried, teetering about on his ragged shoes in an ecstasy of delight.
Dolly laughed and clapped her hands.
“Verily, she should, would, can, and may! laddie boy. But where’s your jacket? I mean your other one? It’s so cold, you’ll freeze in that thin one.”
By the color which came to the lad’s cheek Dolly realized that she had asked a “leading question,” but Robin’s dismay lasted only an instant; then he laughed merrily at the “good joke,” and answered:
“Well, you see, Miss Dorothy, my ‘other one’ is at some tailor’s shop in town. I haven’t had a chance yet to choose one, let alone pay for it! But what matter? ’Tisn’t winter all the year and who wears top-coats in summer? Did she really mean it?”
Gwendolyn proved that she “really meant it” by pushing the “Dorothy Calvert” into position and nodding to him that she was ready.
“All right! Let her go!” he responded to her silent invitation and away they went, as ill-matched a pair as might have been found. But he had a boy’s fearlessness and love of adventure; and even on that swift descent his gay whistling floated back to those above.
Meanwhile, John Gilpin was explaining with considerable pride, yet thankful that the Bishop was out of hearing on his own downward-speeding toboggan:
“You see, lassie, how’t Robin was dead set to come. Said he knew so good a man as his Reverence wouldn’t say ‘No’ to us, and just kept teasin’ at me till we stepped-an’-fetched a lot of staves come off a hogshead. So I fastened ’em together on the insides – See? And we’ve shaved an’ shaved, an’ glass-scraped ’em on ’tother till they’ll never hurt no slide ’t ever was iced. The Bishop seemed terr’ble afraid I’d rough up his track with it, but it’s a poor track that water won’t freeze smooth again; so if we do happen to scratch it a mite, I’ll step-an’-fetch a few buckets o’ water and fix it up again. And say, girlie, where’s that Jack, boot-boy? And Baal? I ain’t seen hide nor hair of ary one this long spell, an’ I allow I kind of sorter miss ’em. He used to give the dame the fidgets with his yarns of what he’s goin to be an’ do, time comes, but me an’ him got on fairly well – fairly. As for that goat, he was the amusingest little creatur’ ’t ever jumped a fence, even if we did fight most of the time. Hah, hum! I’ve noticed more’n once that the folks or things you quarr